


Touch Starved

by rileywrites



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Insecure Derek, M/M, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-13
Updated: 2014-03-13
Packaged: 2018-01-15 14:27:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1308169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rileywrites/pseuds/rileywrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ever since Stiles came back to Beacon Hills after his emissary training, he hasn't stopped touching the pack. Derek isn't quite sure why it bothers him so much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Touch Starved

Ever since Stiles came back to Beacon Hills, he hasn’t stopped touching.

Laying a hand on Lydia’s back walking through doorways. Strolling through town arm-in-arm with Allison. Tucking in between Danny and Ethan for pack movie night. Leaning on Boyd after battles. Snuggling with Erica during cold snaps. Hugging Scott— all the time. 

Derek isn’t quite sure why it bothers him so much. 

Then he realizes.

Stiles never touches him.

Well, not never.

Stiles will haul his (drugged yet again, seriously Sourwolf don’t you know better than to drink what people give you) ass into the Jeep and then into Deaton’s. He’ll push him aside long enough to get a good shot. He’ll rest on him long enough to regain his balance after a blow.

But it’s never casual. Not like it is with the others.

Then finally, after a movie night spent sulking—not sulking—sulking in his arm chair while Stiles—worn out from a full day of teaching America’s future— slept tucked in his usual place between Danny and Ethan, Derek has had enough.

"Stiles, can you… can you hang back for a minute?"

Stiles stares at him for a second. “Sure.”

Once everyone leaves (in a flurry of hugs for Stiles and fond back pats for Derek), Stiles turns back to Derek, question scrawled across his face.

"I…" Man up, Hale. You’re being ridiculous. “Why don’t you touch me?”

Stiles’ eyebrow quirks up in an obvious “what the hell.”

"I mean… you hug the rest of the pack, and you cuddle with Danny and Ethan, and Allison went to  _you_  for back rubs when she was pregnant with Laura, and even Lydia lets you manhandle her and  _no one_  touches Lydia.” Derek takes a deep breath. “But… you never touch me.”

Stiles is silent for a long moment. A long, self-flagelation-filled moment while Derek wishes he never mentioned it.

"Derek… I never realized it was on the table." Stiles crosses to him slowly. "Even before I left, you never were what you’d call ‘touchy-feely’ with me— or with anyone, to be honest."

Derek looks up at Stiles’ eyes— christ, when had that happened.

"It is. On the table, I mean."

Another long moment passes.

Then…

Derek finds himself wrapped in long limbs and the scent of sage and crayola. There’s a sizzle of magic wherever bare skin touches.

"Better?" Stiles murmurs.

Derek presses his face into Stiles’ neck. “Much.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on [tumblr.](http://rileyrises.tumblr.com/)


End file.
